You've Got to be Kidding Me
by That Creative One
Summary: A collection of sickfics for all of the Les Amis, and maybe some other characters as well. Pure fluff, because I took my crazy pill today :) Have fun!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: SO, I took my crazy pill today and felt like I should make a book of one-shot sickfics for all the Les Amis de l'ABC, and if you're lucky I'll do Javert, Fantine, Valjean, etc. Have fun, R&R, and thanks for reading! **

Chapter One

"It's been a long day, Enj, you should get some rest." Combeferre had been nonchalantly attempting to cajole Enjolras into going home and sleeping for the past ten minutes, unsuccessfully. Everyone knew how stubborn Enjolras could be, but Combeferre always felt the need to help others.

"For Patria's sake, Apollo, listen to Ferret over there," came a slurred voice from the other side of the small Café Musain. Both students turned to see the resident cynic Grantaire sitting at a table with his ever-faithful bottle in hand. Grantaire had a magical skill to annoy people three ways in one short sentence. He knew for a FACT that Enjolras A) Hated when people made jokes about Patria, B) Called him Apollo, especially Grantaire, and he knew for a FACT Combeferre hated being called 'Ferret'.

Medical student and hypochondriac Joly walked over, unfazed by Grantaire's yelling. It was a normal occurrence at the Café Musain. Taking a seat across from Enjolras, who was busily writing a speech, and Combeferre who was attempting to persuade Enjolras to go home, his forehead creased with concern.

"Enjolras, you look pale. Have you eaten today? How many hours did you sleep last night? Have you been around anyone who had been-"

Joly was cut off by Enjolras famous shut-up-NOW glare and him saying, "Joly, I haven't been near anyone contagious with smallpox or pneumonia. Now _please_ be quiet, I have a pounding headache."

Combeferre exchanged a worried glance with Joly. He knew that if Enjolras didn't stop soon, he _would_ get sick, or at least a horrible migraine. Combeferre sighed internally, because he knew the only thing he could do now to get his revolutionary friend to take care of his basic needs would be to annoy him into listening.

"So, Enjy, what are you reading?" Combeferre asked lightly, knowing full well Enjolras hated being called Enjy.

"Please don't call me that," Enjolras said, not looking up from his writing. Combeferre glanced at Grantaire, who seemed to get the message and sauntered over.

"Made out with Patria recently, Apollo?" Grantaire said. Enjolras's jaw tightened but other than that he gave no recognition to their attempts. Sighing, Grantaire took a long drink from his bottle and paused for a moment. He then walked over to Enjolras and kissed him on the cheek, since he didn't have a clear angle to reach his mouth.

"Grantaire! Get off me, you wine cask!" Enjolras roughly shoved Grantaire off, but Grantaire had gotten the job done. Picking up his papers, Enjolras left with a slammed door.

-**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX- **

Enjolras only knew he had fallen asleep because he woke up the next morning with his head down on the desk in his flat bedroom. Groggily sitting up, Enjolras rubbed his pounding head. When he woke up enough to register the dusty light steaming through the window, Enjolras realized he was almost late to his classes.

Taking a harried three-minute shower and throwing on some clothing randomly, Enjolras grabbed his bag and sprinted out the door, making it to his first class, 'Politics' just before the bell rang.

Sitting down, Enjolras took out his completed assignment, which was to be self-graded once his professor had written the answers up on the whiteboard in the front of the room. Enjolras was about to begin looking over his work when he broke off into a coughing fit.

Coughing over and over and over and (do I really need to continue?) into the crook of his arm, Enjolras tried to get a grip on himself as his classmates shot him looks varying from confused to concerned. Swallowing hard, Enjolras tried to resume his work while ignoring his professor's constant fretful glances.

Enjolras managed to get about halfway through his class without anything explosive happening, but when it was his turn to give his opinion on the French Monarchy's merits in supporting education for low-income families, he started sneezing again and again. Grabbing a tissue, Enjolras desperately tried to stop because he felt like a complete fool. When he managed to breath normally once again, his teacher said nothing more than, "Enjolras, no more work for you today. Go home and rest," and handed him a pass to give to the nurse.

Feeling like an idiot, Enjolras walked through the halls until he reached the nurse's tiny office, where a nice smiling lady took his pass and contacted his other teachers to inform them of Enjolras's early leave. Sighing, Enjolras walked the short distance to his flat and immediately collapsed onto his couch. The small walk had drained him.

Enjolras was wondering if it was possible to get started on any future projects when his phone buzzed.

_**Combeferre: **__Enjolras, I heard you were sick. I'm coming over the second school ends. _

_ (Non K+ word here), _Enjolras thought. He knew the second Combeferre walked in he would go into medical-student-mother-hen mode. Enjolras decided to get some work done while he could.

END

Sorry, my hands are kind of tired from typing :) I promise I will continue the story in the next chapter. Please R&R, and thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hello! So, I've got some spare time on my hands and decided to update :) You lucky ducks. THANK YOU, Phoenixflames12! Your review was absolutely wonderful, thank you so much! You have no idea how much that meant to be. And a shout-out to Trust Gavroche as well, my top reviewer! Thank you both so much :) (::) (::) Cookie for both of you. _

CHAPTER TWO,

COMBEFERRE'S POV 

The second he heard murmurs around the hall saying one of the top politics students had gone home, Combeferre sprinted to the Politics room to confirm it with the professor, and indeed Enjolras took a sick leave. After texting Enjolras, Combeferre could barely sit still through the rest of his classes.

Finally, after an eternity of discussing the characteristics of buboes, Combeferre left his last class and headed towards Enjolras's flat. Upon arriving, Combeferre nearly went ballistic.

"_What_ do you think you're doing!?" Combeferre hissed when he saw Enjolras doing work. Writing, of all things! Enjolras needed rest and fluids and- Combeferre's thinking was interrupted by Enjolras's sigh.

"Oh, come on, 'Ferre. You're being melodramatic," Enjolras said, but closed his book nonetheless, as Combeferre looked like he was about to go on a rant. Still, Enjolras couldn't help but take a quick glance at his schedule for weeks to come, and muttered "_Damn_," under his breath. "'Ferre, I've got a test coming up and I've got to study. Can I please go back? I'm feeling a lot better," Enjolras said pleadingly, but Combeferre didn't buy it for a second.

"Nope, you've staying either on that couch or in your bed until I deem you well," Combeferre said, steering Enjolras onto the couch.

"I bet it's just allergies," Enjolras said lamely, and even he had to admit how pathetic it sounded.

"Bull. Now sit before I make you sit," Combeferre said as his mother-hen instincts took over. And sometimes chicks took a little shoving. Especially stubborn-Enjolras chicks who refused to simply _sit on the couch_.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but when Combeferre became possessed by his inner mother hen, there was no stopping him. Even so, it wouldn't have mattered if Enjolras had the most convincing voice in the world, as he descended into a coughing spell that caused his breath to hitch and his body to almost convulse.

"Careful, easy now," Combeferre breathed as he tried to calm Enjolras down by rubbing his back, but this only made the coughing worse and no doubt made it more painful. Biting his lip, Combeferre went to get Enjolras some water.

"Here," Combeferre said, handing Enjolras the water. Enjolras took a small sip, but that automatically sent him spiraling back into coughing.

"Careful," Combeferre warned.

"Not-like-I'm _trying_- to choke," Enjolras hissed between coughs and gasps. When he finally calmed down, he felt Combeferre's MHL (mother-hen look, often mixed with anger or concern) burning a hole in his head, so Enjolras laid down without further complaint.

Combeferre smiled, "Was that so hard, now?" as he softly stroked Enjolras's blonde curls off his forehead. Closing his eyes, Enjolras smiled, but Combeferre's felt his waning. He could see the fatigue etched on Enjolras's face, and worry on his own. Sighing, Combeferre got around to organizing Enjolras strewn-about papers while he slept.

Hours later, Combeferre felt his eyes grow heavy. He had been trying to keep an eye on Enjolras all afternoon. Looking at Enjolras's sleeping face, Combeferre wondered if everyone looked younger in their sleep. Because now, Enjolras could be the 14 year old boy he had met wounded on the streets of Paris years ago. When Combeferre had learned of Enjolras's dark past, he had felt a feeling of protection seared into his heart for this boy, who had survived so much and fought so hard. Before he realized it, Combeferre had tears cascading down his cheeks. He would never let anyone hurt Enjolras. Ever.

Roughly brushing away his tears, Combeferre decided it was time to take Enjolras's temperature. Gently shaking his shoulder, Combeferre waiting until Enjolras's forehead creased and he muttered, "One more minute, 'Ferre," before he smiled. Enjolras never stayed in bed for long.

"Okay, but we've got to take your temperature soon." Enjolras smiled and slid back under the fluffy blanket Combeferre had draped over him. Combeferre found himself counting the seconds until Enjolras sat back up and rubbed his eyes. His voice was scratchy but he seemed clear-minded.

"Oh, do we really have to? I feel a lot better. Really, 'Ferre," Enjolras insisted, seeing Combeferre's look of doubt. Sighing when Combeferre showed no sign of relenting, Enjolras closed his mouth firmly.

"Oh, come on now, Enjolras, you're being childish," Combeferre said, but he couldn't keep the smile from creeping up his face. Enjolras really did look like a stubborn child.

Giggling, Enjolras relented and impatiently opened his mouth.

"You really must have a high fever if, Enjolras, Apollo the Revolutionary, is giggling," Combeferre said jokingly. He literally had to use physical effort to keep the worry out of his voice.

They both waited, Enjolras peevishly and Combeferre anxiously, until they heard the beep of the thermometer. When Combeferre saw the reading of 102.4, he smiled sadly and said, "I'm afraid you'll have to stay home another day,"

Enjolras's demeanor had changed entirely. He went from giggling and happy to peevish and irritable. Crossing his arms across his chest, Enjolras frowned and looked like he was going to argue but was shushed by Combeferre's MHL.

Still, Enjolras had reason to be annoyed. If he so much as breathed wrong, he'd have Combeferre over his in seconds. He tried to muffle coughs and sneezes as best he could.

By the end of the day, they were both worn out. Enjolras immediately retired under the blanket, while Combeferre watched him sleep.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXX-

Blinking, Combeferre sat up. His cheek was numb from the position he had fallen asleep on, on the desk in the front room. Seeing Enjolras was also sitting up- apparently, his internal clock did not rest when his body needed it- Combeferre automatically reached for the thermometer.

After the usual argument about 'I'm fine,' and 'No, you're not, you dirty liar' (omitting the 'dirty liar' part, Combeferre kept that in his head), Combeferre managed to stuff the thermometer in Enjolras mouth. He was, at least, relieved to hear Enjolras's voice was much stronger than the day before.

Taking a look, Combeferre nearly cried with relief when he saw the reading of 99.8. Smiling, he passed it to Enjolras, who automatically got up and began to prepare himself for the day. Rolling his eyes good humoredly, Combeferre decided he needed to do the same.

But before he left, Combeferre embraced Enjolras in a hug. He was delighted that Enjolras had recovered so fast. He left with a smile on his face.

END

I hope you liked that chapter! It's a bit long, but please, R&R! Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: OH MY RUBBER DUCKS THREE REVIEWS! That's actually a lot for me ;) Thank you, everyone, for your amazing reviews. I hope you like chapter three, it has one of my favorite characters AND one of my favorite parings. Nothing much romantic though. Thank you for reading!

CHAPTER 3, Jehan's POV

Jehan bit his lip as his stomach rolled once more. It was a Saturday afternoon, sunny and beautiful. Jehan's kind of day. However, Jehan was not able to enjoy the beauty as he was debating whether he should sprint to the bathroom now or risk throwing up all over the floor. And then having to clean it up.

Jehan had felt miserable all day. He had woken up with a queasy stomach and sore throat, but now he put all of his willpower to not start retching right there. Not even poetry had made him feel better, especially when he nearly threw up on it. Now he was sitting on the couch, staring off into the distance and trying to keep everything in his stomach.

Unsuccessfully. 

Another turn in his stomach made up his mind for him, and before he knew it, Jehan was staring at the toilet bowl. Heaving again, he wondered why his stomach had chosen this of all days to have a revolt inside him. Jehan was supposed to be having lunch with Courfeyrac.

Speaking of which….

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

COURFEYRAC'S POV 

Courfeyrac glanced at his phone for the tenth time in one minute. It was the same time when he had check five seconds ago. Still, Courfeyrac couldn't contain his worry.

He was sitting at a little bakery that was still relatively new. He had taken Enjolras and Grantaire there before, and Grantaire had attempted to teach Enjolras to cook. Attempted is the key word in that sentence.

Jehan was almost 15 minutes late.

Now, being late was not an unusual occurrence for Jehan. He often got caught up in his poetry or daydreaming. However, it was never as much as 15 minutes. Possibly four at the very most.

Unable to sit still any longer, Courfeyrac left the bakery without ordering anything. Getting in his car, Courfeyrac kept on eye on his speedometer and the other on the road as he frantically tried to remember which flat Jehan's was. For some unfortunate reason, whenever Courfeyrac panicked, his mind totally blanked on important things, such as his best friends' address.

After driving past Jehan's flat about four times, Courfeyrac hopped out of his car and headed up to Jehan's level and gently opened the door. "Jehan," Courfeyrac called out softly. He heard nothing, so began quietly walking into the flat.

Courfeyrac couldn't find Jehan in the kitchen, study, or his bedroom. He was about to call out Jehan's name again when he heard moaning coming from the bathroom.

Rushing to the bathroom, Courfeyrac entered to see Jehan bent over the toilet. "Oh, Jehan," Courfeyrac breathed as he watched everything spill out of the poor boy. Thankfully, his hair was back in a ponytail, but a couple of loose strands hung riskily near his mouth.

Kneeling down next to Jehan's shaking body, Courfeyrac grabbed a washcloth and set it next to him. Courfeyrac brushed all Jehan's hair back with his hand and quickly re-tightened the ponytail. Wetting the washcloth, Courfeyrac waited until Jehan's retching stopped to hand it to him.

Wiping off the lower half of his face, Jehan turned a little to face Courfeyrac, and he realized just how bad Jehan looked. He was pale and shivering violently. His eyes were red and swollen.

Courfeyrac felt sympathy wash over him, and he automatically opened his arms. Jehan crawled into Courfeyrac's embrace. Crying quietly, Jehan stayed there for a long time, only breaking off to return to the toilet, where he could do nothing but dry-heave.

Jehan hated throwing up, had always hated it. The painful anticipation, the burning sourness, and the way it often got into his nose. He hated it.

"Come on, let's get you in bed," Courfeyrac said, taking Jehan's hand to help him up. But Jehan shook his head, one arm wrapped around his stomach. Courfeyrac understood that it was too painful for Jehan to stand.

Courfeyrac stood, letting go of Jehan's hand to get some medicine, maybe a heating pad if he could find one. That's what his Mama had always done when he was a child and ill.

"No," Jehan said in a raspy voice just above a whisper. "Please don't go," Jehan looked on the verge of tears again.

Most people were dependent when they were sick, and Jehan was not exception; a sick Jehan was a clingy one.

"I'm just going to get some medicine, don't worry, I'll be right back," Courfeyrac said soothingly, but Jehan grabbed his hand again and refused to let go. Tears were dripping down his face again.

"You need medicine," Courfeyrac said, a little more stern this time. When Jehan didn't let go, Courfeyrac sighed and sat down next to him and smiled slightly as Jehan curled up next to him.

Pulling out his phone, Courfeyrac texted the Amis:

_**Courfeyrac:**__ Is anyone free for 10 minutes to bring over some medicine and a heating pad for Jehan? He's sick and throwing up. _

Courfeyrac didn't have to wait long for his phone to start buzzing.

_**Combeferre**__: Sure, I'll bring something over. _

_**Éponine:**__ I'll come over too, I bet I could help. _

_**Courfeyrac: **__I would crack a period joke right now, but I happen to enjoy being alive. Especially since you know my current location. _

_**Éponine: **__I appreciate your self-restraint and empathy. Note the sarcasm. _

_**Combeferre: **__Bye. I'll be over soon. _

Courfeyrac was brought back to the present by the sound of Jehan retching again. How there was anything left in the boy's stomach was beyond him.

Rubbing Jehan's back soothingly, Courfeyrac said quietly, "Combeferre and Éponine are coming with medicine and a heating pad, and they'll be here soon,"

Jehan had looked relieved at the 'medicine' part, but his face contorted as soon as Courfeyrac mentioned the heating pad. It was only then Courfeyrac even thought of checking Jehan for a fever.

"Jehan, sweetie, I've got to get the thermometer. I'll be right back, I promise," Courfeyrac said, standing up and trying to ignore Jehan's sad, worried face, which quickly turned from him back to the toilet bowl. Pity filled Courfeyrac, and he wanted to just hug Jehan and tell him everything would be alright.

Courfeyrac left the small bathroom and went into the kitchen, where he peered into several cabinets before locating the medicine box. Taking down the small plastic bin, Courfeyrac saw it had barely anything, just a thermometer, Band-Aids, and some Ibuprofen. He was glad Combeferre was bringing medicine.

Grabbing the thermometer, the Ibuprofen, a cup of water, and a fresh washcloth, Courfeyrac walked back to the bathroom. Jehan had flushed the contents of his stomach away, and Courfeyrac was glad for that as the smell of vomit was not a pleasant one. Jehan was sitting with his back against the bathtub and his head on his knees, but he looked up with a ghost of a smile when Courfeyrac came in.

"Here, this might help your stomach," Courfeyrac said, handing Jehan two Ibuprofen and the cup of water. Jehan looked wary, but his pain won over and he swallowed the pills, one at a time, with a tentative sip of water. No sooner had he swallowed them before he moaned and was once again retching into the toilet.

Courfeyrac cursed himself for his stupidity. Jehan hadn't been able to keep _nothing_ in his stomach (hence the dry-heaving), what possessed Courfeyrac to think he could tolerate pills? He should have at least waited until Combeferre came to see what he had.

Just then, there came a soft knocking on the door. Courfeyrac got up, albeit Jehan's sad-puppy-face, and went over to greet Combeferre and Éponine.

They walked in, Combeferre with a 'Hello,' and Éponine with a gentle kiss to Courfeyrac's cheek, as was customary greeting in France, and automatically frowned at the sound of Jehan's retching and moaning, which was very audible from the bathroom.

Combeferre set down a small bag he had, and took out pretty much everything they might have needed.

"I got some Hydroxyzine, a heating pad, water bottle, disposable thermometer; because I'm pretty sure no one wants to wash bile off of the regular one, and Eszopiclone." Combeferre said, taking out the contents of the bag.

"What and what?" Courfeyrac said, looking at the two medicine bottles.

Combeferre rolled his eyes and said, "Stomach medicine and sleeping medicine."

"Oh," Courfeyrac said, then added, "Thank you both for coming,"

Combeferre and Éponine smiled and said, "No problem," Éponine then immediately headed for the bathroom.

Trailing behind her, Courfeyrac told her about Jehan's retching and how he couldn't even keep down water. This worried Combeferre immensely.

"Maybe I should've brought and IV bag," he mumbled, mostly to himself.

Éponine tossed a glare over her shoulder and said to him, "Don't talk like that, Jehan's going to get better." She then entered the bathroom.

Jehan looked up and smiled sadly when he saw them, and was immediately embraced by Éponine. "Thank you for coming," he said in a hoarse voice.

Éponine smiled and tapped him on the nose, earning herself a giggle from Jehan. Courfeyrac mentally took notes; this girl was a genius. That or Courfeyrac had no people skills, and everyone knew Courfeyrac's flirty reputation.

Combeferre knelt beside Jehan and took his temperature with the disposable thermometer, and then gave him the water to flush his mouth out with. "101.8, not bad, we want to keep it there, or lower it," Combeferre said. He then began to question Jehan, asking him what he had eaten the day before this started, was he near anyone sick or in a dirty alley or street, what color it was (why he asked that was beyond Courfeyrac,), and so forth. When he was done, Combeferre said, "I think it's just the stomach flu."

Combeferre and Éponine then each took one of Jehan's hands, and Combeferre said "You have to rest. We're just going to the couch; you can throw up in a bin if you need to." Nodding, Jehan stood up shakily, and Courfeyrac wondered why Jehan didn't behave with him.

Lying on the couch, Jehan closed his eyes and began to drift off. However, when Éponine placed a heating pad on his stomach at the same time Combeferre put a cool cloth on his forehead, Jehan's eyes opened wide and he let out a sigh of relief. Closing his eyes again, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Waking up a couple of hours later, Jehan looked considerably less pale, and his voice was slightly stronger. Taking his temperature, Combeferre smiled when he saw the reading of 101.3. He then decided Jehan should start re-hydrating if he felt better.

"I do, but my stomach is still really nauseated," Jehan said, looking rather wary of water. Combeferre nodded and said,

"In that case, we'll just give you some of the hydroxyzine." Pouring out some of the medicine into a plastic cup, Jehan nodded and downed it with some water. They all waited to see if Jehan's stomach would tolerate it, and it did, to everyone's relief.

Drinking some more water, it was obvious Jehan was still very tired. Éponine insisted that he lay back down, to which he complied. Flipping on the television to, for no reason whatsoever, Gator Boys, Combeferre, Jehan, Courfeyrac, and Éponine all dozed off to the sound of alligators snapping at Jimmy and Paul.

Courfeyrac woke first, probably because he was nearest to Jehan when he screamed. Sitting up way too fast for someone who just woke up, Courfeyrac blinked dizzily and saw Jehan staring at his arms.

"Jehan," It came out as part sigh, part what-did-you-do-now?-sigh, and Courfeyrac gently took Jehan's small arm and looked at it.

Jehan's forearm was covered in red, angry-looking bumps that nearly coated his arm. Jehan looked incredibly upset.

"Jehan, what's going on?!" Courfeyrac said a bit too loudly. Combeferre and Éponine sat up groggily and stared at them.

"I don't know, I just woke up because my arm was itching- _achoo_!" Jehan sneezed, his head dipping as he did so. For some reason, Courfeyrac thought it was cute.

"Wait a moment. 'Ponine, pass me the hydroxyzine bottle," Combeferre said. A confused-looking Éponine handed Combeferre the medicine bottle on the end table next to her. He squinted as he read it in the bright morning light streaming through the always-open windows. Then his face cleared of confusion, and he nodded to himself.

"'Side effects may include: Hives or swelling on arms/legs, sneezing, headache, dry mouth.'" Combeferre read aloud and looked sympathetically at Jehan, who nodded and sneezed again.

It was going to be a long day.

By late afternoon, the four were all varying levels of fed up. Combeferre couldn't read with Jehan constantly sneezing, Jehan's arms were covered in freaking _hives_, Éponine kept singing aloud to the music she was listening to on Courfeyrac's iPod, and Courfeyrac simply didn't have the heart to tell 'Ponine she wasn't a good singer.

Finally, Combeferre made up some excuse about an essay to be written or otherwise, and left. Courfeyrac fell asleep, and Jehan was alone with Éponine.

Jehan himself was miserable. Combeferre had been snapping at him all day for scratching his arms, claiming it would scar. Éponine had stood up for Jehan, saying it wasn't chicken pox and he was overreacting. Jehan just stayed in the middle of it all.

Sneezing again, Jehan stood up and wandered into the kitchen, getting a tissue along the way. Wiping his nose and coughing, Jehan was reduced to near tears as he wondered when this would end. First he spent his Saturday bent over a toilet, retching up everything he had ever eaten. Now he was having an allergic reaction to the one thing, the _one thing_ that had helped. He was sick of it.

Soon, Jehan found himself in his bedroom. Lying down on his own bed, Jehan tried to recall the last poem he had written.

_The sun smiles down, _

_Over the lush green fields. _

_Dancing in the breeze. _

Not exactly the right syllable count for a haiku, but Jehan was pleased with it. Smiling, he fell asleep, dreaming of a walking through a bright, thriving prairie that swayed in the breeze.

"Jehan, Jehan sweetie, are you awake?" Éponine said, shaking his shoulder just ever so slightly. Sitting up, Jehan blinked and smiled.

"How do you feel?" Éponine inquired, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

"A heck of a lot better," Jehan said. He looked at his arms and gasped with pleasure; all the hives were gone. Throwing his arms around Eponine's neck, the thanked her and laughed at the same time.

_There may be pain in the night, but joy comes in the morning. _

NOTE: That above was not a poem, but song lyrics from a Christian song called Your Love Never Fails. How appropriate ;)

END

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, despite its length. I couldn't help but add Éponine on in. The accent-mark-adder-thingy on Microsoft Word was breaking a bit, so half the accents on Eponine's name are incorrect. Sorry about that! Thank you for reading, R&R please!

.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: READ THIS BEFORE THE STORY!**** It's important. Phoenixflames12, you have been such a help in this story, even through your reviews. The migraine idea was wonderful, but that won't be in this chapter. I literally just got this idea from some pancakes my sister made for breakfast ;) **

CHAPTER 4, Combeferre's POV

Everyone glanced up as the door to the upper room of the Café Musain opened with a happy squeak. Jehan entered with a plate of pancakes, his orangey braid swishing as he gleefully walked in and set the plate down, teetering with wonderfully-smelling pancakes.

"Ohhh, yes," Courfeyrac said, staring at the pancakes with the look of a starving animal in his eyes. The rest of the Amis said something to this effect, making it clear none of them had eaten. Éponine soon joined them, sliding through the still partially-open door unnoticed. Gavroche trailed behind her.

"Good, I haven't eaten in days," Éponine said, grabbing two pancakes. Normally a person would roll their eyes to this, but with Éponine it was literal. Between her fathers' losing their inn several years back and no places willing to hire a gamine for work, Éponine was incredibly poor and often went days without eating. Gavroche also got some pancakes and proceeded to devour them with his hands.

"So, how are you guys?" Éponine said between bites.

Jehan enthusiastically talked about a poetry slam he was going to be attending, while Enjolras said he was going to go over the newest propaganda ideas with Combeferre. Feuilly said something about having work, and left. Courfeyrac was flirting with a brunette in a corner. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta said they were going shopping for some medical books for Joly later, and Bahorel said he was having a drinking competition with Grantaire later.

"Gav, that's your third one. Slow down a bit." Éponine said, reaching for another herself.

"You're on _your _fourth!" Gavroche exclaimed. Éponine didn't look impressed, so Gavroche used his normal excuse of, "I'm a growing gamin, so I need food." Éponine raised her eyebrow at his word choice, because gamine and gamin were often used as demeaning terms. She hoped he wasn't hearing that word enough that he used it to describe himself often.

"Oh, (non K+ word here)," Éponine exclaimed as she looked at the clock on the wall of the Café. "I'm late! Bye, and thanks for the pancakes Jehan!" With that, Éponine left.

Combeferre grabbed a pancake, and cut it open, using silverware unlike a certain young boy. He frowned as he looked at the inside. "Guys, these pancakes are still raw in the middle."

Everyone currently holding a pancake dropped it, except for Jehan, who picked one up and tore it open. Batter oozed lightly from the center. Jehan blushed deep red and muttered, "Oops."

"Oh my Lord, I'M GOING TO DIE! The chances of food poisoning-"Joly began to panic.

"Food poisoning! Joly, you're right! Wait a moment- how many did Éponine eat?"

"Like, 5." said Gavroche. The rest of the Amis exchanged worried looks.

-**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX- **

**EPONINE'S POV **

Not long after Éponine arrived, her stomach began to turn. Then it began to feel incredibly nauseated. It was like Enjolras was having a rant in her stomach.

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?" one of Éponine's co-workers asked her, frowning with concern. Éponine smiled tightly and nodded. Her co-worked walked away, obviously unconvinced. Éponine took this chance to sprint to the bathroom.

A/N: Sorry I'm going to have to stop this here! I have to go soon, and I'd like you to at least be able to read part of this. Just like with the Enjolras/Combeferre sickfic, I'll continue this in the next chapter. Review please, and thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: So I left you with a drop-off for the last chapter, and this is the other part of it! Poor Éponine! By the way, this pancakes shenanigan actually happened, just not the food poisoning part. R&R PLEASE, and thank you for reading!

Chapter 5, Eponine's POV

Éponine leaned against the wall of the staff bathroom in the small bookshop she worked in and swallowed hard. She wondered if she had eaten too fast; she ate five pancakes in a matter of minutes, knowing she had to leave for work but not checking the time ahead. This ended up in her arriving late.

Éponine pressed her forehead into the cool tile walls, which was the one thing that kept her from throwing up right there. Stumbling over to the toilet, she fell to her knees with a nasty _thud_. Suddenly, she was staring at five half-digested pancakes.

Pressing the flush, Éponine washed her mouth and looked at herself in the mirror. She was pale and tired-looking. Sighing, Éponine hoped no one would notice and carried on with her day.

Aside from the odd looks she got from her co-workers, Éponine was able to make it through the day without anything else happening. But by the time she got back home, her stomach was roiling again. She barely made it to the bathroom before she was retching again. This time, it was only bile. Éponine, before the pancakes earlier, hadn't eaten for about three days, so there was nothing left to come up.

Trudging to her bed, Éponine grabbed the waste bin from her front room and lay down. She felt like she might be sick again, but there was nothing to come up.

Just as Éponine was drifting off, her phone buzzed. Snatching it off her bedside table, Éponine saw that one of the table's legs had cracked. She sighed, knowing she couldn't afford a repair or a new one. Éponine was barely able to keep up with the rent for the dumpy flat she stayed in, but she was willing to work than go back to her abusive family where she had lived until a few months ago.

Her phone had three new texts.

_**Combeferre: **__'Ponine, are you sick? _

Éponine stared at her phone in disbelief for a second. Then, she read the second text.

_**Jehan: **__The pancakes I made were still raw in the middle, and since you ate the most, you have a good chance of getting (or having) food poisoning. _

_**Combeferre: **__'Ponine please text back, we can come over if you want us to. _

_**Éponine: **__Yeah, I'm sick. But you don't need to come over. _

_**Jehan: **__Okay, we'll bring Enjolras too. _

_**Éponine: **__You don't have to come over! You said if I wanted you to. _

_**Jehan: **__Meaning you have no choice. _

_**Éponine: :P **_

_** Jehan: **__We'll be over soon. _

Sighing with humored defeat, Éponine closed her eyes once more and floated off into a wonderfully dreamless sleep.

Éponine woke to the sound of a door slamming, and someone saying, "You dumb-(we shall leave the rest of this word unsaid, to maintain our K+ rating), she might be asleep!" and someone else replying, "Well, you don't have to be rude about it," Éponine could pretty much hear the first speaker roll their eyes.

"Guys, I'm awake, you can come in." Éponine said in a pathetically scratchy voice. She heard tentative footsteps and Courfeyrac- and, to Éponine's surprise- with Bahorel entered her bedroom. She smiled when she saw Bahorel's slightly confused look, and Éponine knew he was clueless.

"Hey, 'Ponine, how're you feeling?" Courfeyrac asked, lightly kissing 'Ponine on the cheek. She smiled.

"Well, I feel kind of like a person who ate five raw pancakes and got food poisoning." Éponine said, rolling her eyes good-humoredly. Bahorel sniggered.

"Well no crap, Sherlock." Courfeyrac said, taking out a thermometer of a small bag he had, presumably the Combeferre-assembled sick-aid kit, with the same materials they used for Jehan. Courfeyrac handed her the thermometer, knowing she didn't like to be babied. "99.9, no fever," She declared after looking at it.

"Hmmm, what shall we do?" Courfeyrac and Bahorel had sat down on the end and side of Éponine's bed, and none of them were the kind of wait-around-until-it-passes kind of people.

"Let's play Truth or Dare," Bahorel said with an evil grin.

"Fine, but only truths for me because I don't trust myself to move a lot," Éponine said, and both boys complied.

"I'll start. Bahorel, truth or dare?" 'Ponine asked, becoming quite comfortable with them there.

"Why, dare, of course. I'm no Enjolras," Bahorel said with an offended look, earning himself laughter.

"Let's see, I dare you to….hmm, I've got a super good one but we couldn't do that unless I could follow you….how about, I dare you to take off your underwear without taking your pants off." Éponine said with a malicious smile.

Courfeyrac burst out laughing, as Bahorel moved to Eponine's side of the bed so she could see him better. Sitting down, he stuffed his hands up his pant legs, and Courfeyrac and Éponine screamed with laughter as they watched his pathetic attempts at removing his undergarments. Finally sitting up again, Bahorel shrugged with defeat.

"Okay. My turn, and I've got a good one." Bahorel relocated himself on the bed again. "Coooouuurfeyrac," he said, drawing out the name, "Truth or dare?"

Courfeyrac had a silent battle within himself, and finally said, "Truth?"

"If you had to kill one person in the Les Amis right now, who would you kill?"

"Okay, first, that's just downright odd. The heck kind of question is that? And second, it would be….Marius, for his dumb Cosette rants." Courfeyrac said with finality.

"Aww, you'd hurt little Marius's feewings," Bahorel said in a high, mocking voice, and laughed. "I understand completely."

"'Ponine, truth or dare?" Courfeyrac said, already knowing the answer.

"Truth," Éponine said and rolled her eyes.

"Okay then, if you had to kiss me or Bahorel, who would you kiss?" Courfeyrac said- was that a little hope in his voice?

Éponine rolled her eyes and said, "Bahorel,"

"Score!" Bahorel said, and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes.

The three continued in the manner until 'Ponine realized her stomach no longer was aching. Sitting up, even walking around was back to normal for her. Hugging both boys, Éponine thanked them for helping her.

END

So, I had to add a little twist and have Bahorel come babysit a sick 'Ponine. Please review, they mean a lot to me. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6, 3rd Person POV

"Vive la France! Vive la France! Vive la France!" This had been going on for almost a minute since Enjolras had ended his speech. And for Combeferre, it was a minute too long.

Combeferre pressed the heels of his hands against his pounding temples. He recalled earlier that morning waking up immensely tired and with a sore throat. Throughout his classes that day and the meeting just now, his throat had grown more inflamed with a headache to match. All in all, he was not a happy camper.

Enjolras was standing on a table, staring down at the café full of determined faces, waiting for a new future to come. However, his vision was riveted on his friend Combeferre. His head was down and his hands were pressing against the side of his head with his fingers curled. He looked like he was having some mental collapse.

Jumping down nimbly from the table, Enjolras walked over directly to his friend.

Vaguely, Combeferre realized that someone was calling his name. "Combeferre? 'Ferre, are you okay?" The voice was laced with worry.

Snapping out of his little pain world, Combeferre blinked and looked up. He saw his younger friend Enjolras standing across from where he was sitting. His face was etched with concern.

"Hi," Combeferre said weakly. He hated seeing that concern on his friend's face, because he knew what effect others being ill had on Enjolras. Especially Combeferre.

"'Ferre, are you okay? You look pale," Without waiting for an answer, Enjolras turned away and said loudly, "Joly! Can you come over here for a moment?"

The medical student walked over to where Enjolras and Combeferre were, with a confused look on his face. Confusion turned to worry when he saw Combeferre's pale face.

"Combeferre, are you okay?" Joly asked, his voice filled with fear. Joly was a hypochondriac, making his friends question his career choice of a doctor. He spent half his life in fear he would die of some awful disease.

"Yes, I'm fine," Combeferre said with some level of irritation. Normally it was _him_ being the mother hen over everyone else, and he didn't like the positions being reversed.

"No, you're not, so quit lying to us. Your pale and I can tell from the look on your face you have a pounding headache. Come on, you're going home. Now," Enjolras said, lightly grabbing his friend's arm. Combeferre pulled his arm away, but stood up. An angry Enjolras would make the strongest dictators bow at his feet.

Enjolras tried to take Combeferre's arm again, who proceeded to pull it away again. "I can _stand_, Enjolras." He said irritably.

"No you can't. Have you taken a look at yourself? You're shaking where you stand." Joly pointed out, take Combeferre's other arm. He felt like he was under arrest.

Knowing there was absolutely no way of getting out of this, Combeferre stood up and, ignoring the other concerned and confused glances he got, walked out of the café. Joly wasn't lying, he was shaking, which made it all the harder to walk. They made irritatingly slow progress. At least to Combeferre it was irritating; he hated feeling weak like this.

Once they had reached Combeferre's flat, he opened the door and automatically headed towards the couch. His friends shook their heads and actually said in unison, "Bed. Now,"

Combeferre shot his friends an odd look. "Great, now you've become one giant mother-henning machine," earning himself laughter from the two.

Combeferre's first instinct was to go to sleep; he had felt horribly tired all day. Joly shook his head and said, "Once I check you over, you can rest, okay?" Combeferre frowned, but complied.

Joly checked Combeferre's throat, frowning when he saw how inflamed it was. He questioned Combeferre about what he had eaten, how much water he was drinking, has he been around anyone that was sick lately, etc. He took Combeferre's temperature, and said, "101.7, not bad, but we want it lower."

"Okay, so tell me the symptoms you've had in the past few days," Joly said.

"Sore throat, headache, fatigue, pretty much. And an overall feeling of just un-wellness." Combeferre said, knowing it wasn't much to work off of.

Joly frowned at bit his lip. "Well, it could be viral pharyngitis, aseptic meningitis…" He continued rambling on about all sorts of diseases.

Combeferre rolled on his side and tuned Joly's rambling out. Within seconds, he was asleep.

For the next two days, Enjolras and Joly tried to care for Combeferre the best they could. He refused to take any medicine because of his throat, and he rarely got up. Mainly, he would just lay in bed with his eyes closed and a vacant expression on his pale face. Kind of like a dead person- this worried Enjolras and Joly enormously.

For them, it was confusing. They didn't have much to work of off. He wasn't coughing or sneezing; he wasn't throwing up. Finally, Joly cracked. On the second night, he swabbed the back of Combeferre's throat while he slept.

Combeferre woke up, feeling exactly the same as the past three days, which was really getting under his skin. He hated the fact his body couldn't move at the speed his mind wanted it too, and it made him feel very vulnerable when he couldn't move his body, no matter how much he tried. Like when Joly decided to inject- _inject_- medicine into him.

Walking into the kitchen, Combeferre realized how hungry he was getting. He had barely eaten anything in the past three days because it hurt so much to swallow. Joly had kept bothering him about how did he expect his body to heal itself with no nutrients?

Enjolras was making breakfast ("Do you want anything?", "No,", "Please?", "No.", "You should eat something, you know,", "NO."), and Joly was pouring over a sheet of paper that looked suspiciously like a lab report.

"Joly, what is that?" Combeferre said in a raspy yet suspicious voice. Joly blushed and looked up.

"Well, I- I kind of swabbed your throat while you slept…" Joly's voice trailed off. Combeferre was torn between gratefulness that his friend cared so much and anger that he had been swabbed in his sleep.

"And?" Combeferre said carefully, not really sure he wanted to hear the results. '

"Still looking…" Joly said, pouring over the lab sheet, and then his eyes widened. "How did I possibly not realize this?! Combeferre, you have mono,"

"Mononucleosis?" Enjolras said, watching Combeferre's face carefully. "Oh, 'Ferre,"

"Well, now we just have to wait," Joly said, wincing internally when he saw Combeferre's look of pain when he swallowed.

For two more weeks, Joly and Enjolras practically were attached to Combeferre, much to his annoyance. Since mono normally only requires self-care, all Combeferre did was rest and try to ignore the other two boy's mother-henning. Between classes and caring for Combeferre, Joly and Enjolras were exhausted.

"Please, go get some rest," Combeferre said, although he could barely keep his eyes open. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, yet the only thing holding back to earth was his throat.

"'Ferre, how much have you eaten in the past two days?" Enjolras said, suddenly wide awake. Fear flooded through him when he saw his friend's face. He was incredibly pale, and his eyes were glazed over and locked somewhere in the distance.

Combeferre tried to answer, but he couldn't form the words. It was incredibly unnerving.

"Combeferre, please answer me," Enjolras pleaded. "Please, 'Ferre, say anything, please," He got no response, but Combeferre's breathing became slightly quicker.

"_Joly!_" Enjolras nearly screamed. Within seconds, the harried-looking medical student was standing at the doorway, slightly out of breath.

"What's ha-" Joly's eyes froze on Combeferre's body.

Going into a special doctor mode that involves only Joly and the patient, Joly hooked up an IV from his medical bag with astonishing speed. Injecting a dose of acetaminophen, which was a pain medicine rich in caffeine, into Combeferre's arm, they waited and watched as Combeferre slowly came out of his malnourished trance and stared at them.

"What happened? Why do I have an IV in my arm?" Combeferre asked, still a little lightheaded. "Enjolras, why are you crying?"

Enjolras angrily swiped away the tears dripping down his face, and said, "How much have you eaten?"

Combeferre immediately understood what had happened. His face flushed with embarrassment, "Er, nothing?"

Enjolras's face turned into a mask of fury, while Joly's jaw dropped. Joly went to the kitchen, and came back with a bowl of soup and a piece of toast. Before Combeferre could do anything, he said in an uncharacteristically frightening voice, "_Eat it_!"

Combeferre nodded and ate the small meal, unable to meet his friend's eyes. He felt absolutely horrible for worrying them like that, and he was cursing himself for being so immature. It was a sore throat; he knew he still had to eat!

He opened his mouth to apologize, but Joly shook his head dejectedly and said, "Just rest, Combeferre, you'll need it." Combeferre nodded and fell asleep miserably.

The next day, Combeferre woke late into the day at 1:13. He sat up, feeling hungry but immensely better. He got up and walked into the kitchen, and was delighted to see he still had strength at the end of it. Joly and Enjolras were talking in hushed voices and stopped when Combeferre walked in.

He automatically ate the breakfast placed in front of him, and saw Joly and Enjolras looked a bit lighter afterwards.

"How're you feeling?" Joly asked, without meeting Combeferre's eyes.

"A lot better," Combeferre said in an indeed strong voice. Joly looked relieved. Taking his chance, Combeferre said, "I'm really sorry I worried you yesterday,"

Enjolras, whose eyes had been fixated on the floor, looked up with his eyes full of tears. "You damn idiot," he muttered, embracing Combeferre. The two stayed like that for a while, hugging.

Finally pulling away, Enjolras whispered, "You scared me back there. Don't ever do that again, 'Ferre."

Smiling, Combeferre said, "I won't. I promise," And hugged both boys again. Enjolras laughed and cried at the same time.

END

Wow, a bit of a dramatic chapter. It was mainly to emphasize the brothership between Enjy and 'Ferre. PLEASE REVIEW, and thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Oh, Phoenixflames12, your reviews never fail to make me smile. Thank you so much, thank you all my reviewers for all of your support ;) So this chapter may be a bit off, as I don't know Feuilly's character as well. Ah, well. I'll try my best. I hope you enjoy reading, and please review. Thanks ;) **

**Chapter 7, 3****rd**** person POV**

"Feuilly, are you alright, mon ami?" Bossuet asked, frowning with concern. His Poland-loving friend looked like the living definition of 'ill'; he was sitting at a table by himself in the corner, curled up with his head on his knees. He was visibly shaking and all day had a persistent cough.

Feuilly looked up, much to the objection of his sore neck. He was aching all over, especially his wrists. And he was cold- so incredibly cold. "What?"

"Are you okay?" Bossuet said, walking over. He felt Feuilly's forehead, and proclaimed, "Feuilly! You're burning up,"

Naturally, this drew the rest of the Les Amis over to Feuilly's secluded corner. Suddenly he was being bombarded with questions- was he alright? How did he feel? Was he sick? Feuilly wondered why all their voices were abnormally loud. He felt like he couldn't distinguish each individual voice. He was confused, and he had been all day, asking people to repeat their questions, constantly forgetting things. And so- _damn_- cold.

"Guys! Back up, give him some space!" A sharp voice cracked like a whip through the commotion. Slowly, Feuilly realized that he was curled up with his head on his knees, his arms pinned to his sides and his hands clasped over his head. He must've looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

The rest of the group backed up slightly, and Enjolras sat down next to Feuilly. Quietly but firmly, he asked, "Feuilly, how do you feel?"  
Feuilly licked his dry lips and tried to form an answer. _How do you feel?_ Feuilly just decided to answer honestly.

"Like crap. Everything hurts. And it's so cold in here." He mumbled, not sure whether his words were coherent or not.

Enjolras placed his hand against Feuilly's forehead, and wasn't surprised to feel him burning with fever. Despite his claims of being cold, Enjolras could practically feel the ailing heat radiating off his body.

"Everything hurts how?" Enjolras asked gently. He suspected an answer somewhere along with the lines of a migraine, considering how Feuilly hadn't looked up or opened his eyes during this interrogation.

"Sore. Aching." Feuilly muttered.

Enjolras gave a small nod to Courfeyrac, who stood up in sync with Enjolras. "Feuilly, we're taking you home." Feuilly shook his head.

"I've got work tonight," he said in a faint voice, although the rest of him screamed for rest. Indeed, he was working the night shift at a local book store tonight. Earlier, he had worked as a lumberjack's assistant, carting logs to and from the woods to the lumberjack's workshop where they would be cut into planks. That could easily be the explanation for his soreness, but it wasn't.

"No, you don't. Not anymore, anyways. Come on, you're sick and you've got to rest." Enjolras said resolutely, helping the shaking man up. Courfeyrac immediately took his other arm, and the two led him out.

About halfway down the staircase to the lower level of the Café Musain, Feuilly moaned, unintentionally. Courfeyrac whispered to Enjolras, "Wait here, I'll get my car." Enjolras nodded and sat Feuilly down at a table in the lower level.

Up close, you could see just how bad Feuilly looked. He was shivering, and not lightly either. His eyes were still closed.

"Feuilly, open your eyes," Enjolras commanded gently. He was worried Feuilly had them closed because he wasn't able to see, or some other reason that would eventually impair his vision.

Feuilly opened his eyes and looked at Enjolras, and Enjolras saw his eyes were clouded with pain, but otherwise looked fine. Enjolras nodded, and Feuilly put his head on the table.

Just then, Courfeyrac pulled up and honked. Enjolras smiled thankfully, and they set out to Feuilly's flat.

END

Don't worry, mon amis, I will continue this. My hands are kinda sore from writing and typing :P So this is where I will end for now. I was kind of bored with the flu and cold stuff, so I did my research and got a new illness for our Poland-loving Amis here! Please review, and thank you for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: OH MY FRENCH REVOLUTION 17 REVIEWS!? Someone pinch me….no, someone hurl a barricade at me! Thank you every single person *cough* PHEONIXFLAMES12! *cough* who has reviewed! I am so grateful, and all of your reviews help push me along a little farther in the story! I know my updates are often half chapters, but I am in Mulan Jr this year for our school musical and since the performances are coming up next week, things have been totally hectic. So, I totally intent to have full updates, unless I want lots of suspense ;) Thank you, and please review.

Wow, that was a rant. If you read it, thanks!

**Chapter 8, Feuilly's POV **

Feuilly put his head down on the table and tried to shut out rest of his aching body from his clouded mind. Faintly, he was aware that Enjolras was rubbing his back, and it felt good. His hand was warm and eased the aching in his back slightly.

But then his hand was gone, and suddenly they were sitting in Courfeyrac's car. Feuilly sat in back and curled into a ball as he tried to warm himself up. Enjolras claimed he had a fever, but he felt so cold that he half suspected Enjolras had said that to get him home.

"Feuilly…" The voice trailed off, as if unsure what to say next, and Feuilly looked up. He saw they were in the hospital parking lot.

"We're going to get a blood test," Courfeyrac said, because both Feuilly and Enjolras had looked puzzled. It was clear by the look on his face that Enjolras hadn't been in on this either.

"He probably just has the flu," Enjolras said, looking wary himself of the hospital.

"I just want to make sure it isn't the mono you had a few weeks ago," Courfeyrac insisted, and the three of them walked inside (or, actually, Courfeyrac and Enjolras helped Feuilly inside).

A nurse at the reception desk met them with a smile that soon was coated with an empathetic type of worry when she saw Feuilly, who looked dead on his feet, propped up between the other two men.

"Does he need emergency medical care?" Were the first words out of the nurse's mouth, and for a good reason. Feuilly looked like the walking definition of 'sick'.

Courfeyrac shook his head and said, "No, he's fine…-ish. We just wanted to do a blood test, because my friend had mono a few weeks ago and I just want to make sure Feuilly here-" He gestured to Feuilly with a jerk of his head, "-doesn't have it."

The nurse nodded and handed them a few medical history forms to fill out, then went to alert a doctor.

A few forms later, Feuilly was sitting on a hospital bed, shaking and terrified. Naturally, as Courfeyrac had mind blanks whenever anything important or urgent happened, he had entirely forgotten that Feuilly was dead afraid of blood.

"No, no," Feuilly moaned. Courfeyrac took his hand comfortingly, but Feuilly yanked it away. The nurse walked in with her supplies, and Feuilly almost screamed.

The nurse automatically took on a look of understanding, and it was clear she got this response often. She murmured soothing words in a calm voice to Feuilly, to no effect.

"No, please no…" Feuilly's face blanched upon seeing her take out the syringe. He was hyperventilating, and shaking horribly. The nurse took his arm, and he pulled it back.

"Feuilly, she isn't going to hurt you!" Enjolras cried, taking Feuilly's hands in his own. Forcing Feuilly to look at him, Enjolras said, "Please, Feuilly. Just cooperate and then it'll be done with."

Feuilly took a few hitching breaths, swallowed, and nodded. Whimpering, he extended his arm once more.

Courfeyrac shot Enjolras a look saying he might have been too harsh, and Enjolras shrugged apologetically. A whimper from Feuilly took his attention, and he thought, _Oh, Feuilly, how can I help you? _

Feuilly held his arm as still as possible, but it was still shaking. Courfeyrac sat down next to him and steadied his arm. The nurse lifted the syringe, and Courfeyrac made a split-second decision to cover Feuilly's eyes just as she plunged it in. Once it was over, Feuilly mumbled thanks to him, and was immediately pulled in for a hug.

The nurse soon arrived with juice and a cookie, which Feuilly split amongst the three of them. She then said, "The lab reports will arrive at your house tomorrow." Along with several thanks, the three men left the hospital.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

The three drove back to Feuilly's flat in the same fashion that they had come. Courfeyrac and Enjolras helped Feuilly into his dumpy flat, and it was then they realized his cough was back.

It first started when they put Feuilly in bed, and went to the kitchen to make some tea. Courfeyrac was adding some honey to the tea, as he knew Feuilly loved it, when he decided things were too boring at the moment and squirted Enjolras with honey.

"_Courfeyrac, what the…" _Enjolras's voice trailed off and he frowned as the sound of horrible coughing echoed down the hall. In seconds, Courfeyrac was sprinting to Feuilly's room with Enjolras pretty much stepping on his heels.

Feuilly had propped himself up with one arm, and the other was covering his mouth as he coughed. It seemed to take control of everything below his jaw and he was near convulsing with the movement.

"Feuilly…" Courfeyrac realized that he didn't know what to say, and apparently neither did Enjolras. Sitting down beside Feuilly, the two men waited as Feuilly slowly resumed the ability to breathe again.

Enjolras pressed his hand against Feuilly's forehead. "Oh, Feuilly, you've got a fever," he murmured.

Courfeyrac, who had been gently stroking Feuilly's red hair behind his ear, sat up and felt Feuilly's forehead for himself. He then left the room, and returned a minute later with a thermometer.

Feuilly compliantly let Courfeyrac take his temperature, but it was clear all he wanted to do was sleep.

"102, on the dot," Courfeyrac said gently, and then turned his pitying eyes on Feuilly, who was shaking again, and said, "Get some rest, mon ami," Feuilly nodded and disappeared under the covers.

Once back in the kitchen, Enjolras said in a quiet but urgent voice to Courfeyrac, "I'm not sure we should let his sleep under all that, with his fever."

Courfeyrac pursed his lips, then said, "We'll see how it goes. If it's up in the morning, no more covers."

It was then the two attended to their own needs, wolfing down a quick dinner and collapsing onto the couch in the front room. Feuilly, the poor lamb, however, stayed up the entire night coughing, and burned probably 1000000.4 calories shivering. No matter how much he wrapped himself in blankets, he couldn't get warm. And no matter how much he tried to relax, his everything continued aching.

Feuilly rolled over once more and saw that it was 4:09 AM. Tired of being sore and cold, Feuilly finally snapped. Crawling out of his bed, he padded into the bathroom and, being sure to close the door and lock it, turned on the shower. Waiting until the stream of water was steaming; he undressed and stepped under the shower.

He gasped with pleasure when the magnificently hot water hit his back. He tipped his head back and savored the feeling of the hot water cascading down his body. He probably stood there for a good 20 minutes, simply enjoying the hot water.

Noises in the front room alerted Feuilly that it was time to get out; quickly, he toweled himself off and put his clothing back on; he managed to slip back into his bed unnoticed.

Or, so he thought, until a cross-looking Enjolras appeared with a thermometer. "Feuilly, just how dumb do you think I am?"

"Um, not at all?" Feuilly said, hoping vainly this wasn't careening in the direction he thought it was. Enjolras gave an annoyed sigh.

"Well, maybe I just happened to notice the fact the mirror in the bathroom is fogged up, your hair is damp and, well, let's think, oh, yes- _the shower was on._" Enjolras said.

_Crud, _Feuilly thought. Enjolras walked over and took Feuilly's temperature again. When the thermometer beeped, Enjolras looked at the reading and groaned.

"Nice work, Feuilly. You're up to 103.5," Enjolras said, frowning. "Maybe we should take you to the hospital…"

"No," In spite of himself, Feuilly began to shake. "Please, please no, Enjolras. Please,"

Enjolras was caught under a wave of sympathy as he saw his friend's fear. Sighing again, he said, "Fine. But no more shower stunts, all right?"

"Alright,"

Just then, Courfeyrac walked in with a lab report in his hands. "Well, Feuilly it's not mono. You, my friend, have West Nile Virus."

"West Nile?" Enjolras frowned.

Feuilly nodded, and said, "I was bitten by quite a few mosquitoes when I was working a few days ago in a garden. That explains it."

"Yeah, you must be one of the rare 20% who actually show symptoms." Courfeyrac said, still pouring over the sheet. Suddenly, Courfeyrac froze.

"Other possible effects include seizures, memory loss, personality changes, paralysis, and symptoms similar to Parkinson's disease. Some of these problems may last a long time.*" Courfeyrac read aloud, looking at Feuilly in fear. Feuilly and Enjolras were both rendered speechless.

For the next week, Courfeyrac and Enjolras took care of Feuilly, and all three of them waited in fear for something awful to occur. Enjolras did his research, and West Nile could lead to serious brain damage.

Everyone was delighted as Feuilly's cough faded, and his fever, chills, and soreness left him entirely. One morning, Feuilly screamed.

"_What?" _Enjolras ran in so fast Feuilly was half sure his feet were on fire. Courfeyrac was at work.

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong! I'm well again!" Feuilly cried. At first, Enjolras was a bit confused, but then began to laugh with Feuilly.

But no one was gladder than Feuilly.

END

So, I myself was a bit surprised when I was reading on WebMD (** ALL WEST NILE INFO ON HERE COURTESY OF WebMD!**) that West Nile could lead to brain/spinal cord problems. Of course, I couldn't be that mean to Feuilly. I hoped you liked this chapter. A QUESTION FOR YOU: Do you think next chapter should have Courfeyrac or not? I've had a lot of Courf lately, so it's up to you who you want in the next chapter. Add in the reviews what character you want sick and what characters you want as caretakers. A little recap, the ill ones so far have been: Enjolras, Jehan, Eponine, Combeferre, and Feuilly. PLEASE REVIEW, and thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So, the results are in and….the voted-on sickfic will be…..da da DA...Bahorel+Migraine! However, I've been wanting more fluff, so I came up with an epic three way sickfic. And no more actual 'diseases', just fluff. Have fun with this chapter, it'll be slightly different. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF PATRIA REVIEW!

Chapter Nine

"Gav, sweetie, are you sure you're alright?" Eponine said concernedly for the 4459.032th time as she once again stared at the little gamin's face, which was pale except for his cheeks, which were flushed with what Eponine believed was fever.

"Yeah, yeah yeah yeah I'm fine why 'Ponine are you okay am I okay is someone not okay?" He asked this all incredibly quickly, without taking a breath. His eyes flitted to and from everywhere, and he kept fidgeting.

"Er…" Eponine frowned, and then paled when her father walked in the room, obviously drunk.

"Eponine! Are you done with your work, little brat?" He slurred.

Eponine was about to say something sarcastic and rude, when Gav's face slid into her line of sight and Eponine realized she couldn't risk getting punished or beaten with Gavroche sick. Sighing, she said, "No I have not and I shall finish now." With that, she rose to do the last of her work, which was scrubbing the floor of the upper level.

Scrubbing as quick as she could, Eponine finished her work and took the bucket of dirty water downstairs, and dumped it outside. Walking back in, she automatically went over to Gavroche and said, "Sweetie, how do you feel?"

"Good good I'm fine. Can we play? Can I go to my elephant or do I have to do my chores? I don't like doing the chores father gives us…" Gavroche continued rambling about, pacing as he did so. It worried Eponine immensely.

"Gav, come with me honey," she said, taking him up to his room. Sitting him down on his skimpy mattress, Eponine grabbed a thermometer and took his temperature. He had a very low fever of 100.1.

Eponine bit her lip and debated calling Joly. "Gavroche, come here for a moment," Eponine said, and the boy came in front of her.

His eyes kept darting around the room, and they were some level of unfocused. Eponine checked his pulse and found it a little too quick for her liking. Snatching up her phone, Eponine called Joly's number.

It went straight to voice mail, and Eponine slammed it down in frustration. He was working late tonight. However, Eponine had another idea. Picking up her phone again, she dialed a second number, and the person picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Cosette, it's Eponine. Gavroche is sick and I need your help."

"I'll be over as soon as I can."

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

**Cosette's POV **

"I'll be over as soon as I can." Cosette said, and hung up. Putting her phone and a few other things in her purse, Cosette put on her shoes and prepared to leave the house.

"Where are you going, Cosette?" her father Jean Valjean asked, half curious, half suspicious.

"My friend Eponine's little brother is sick. She just called me and asked for help. I'll be back as soon as I can, Papa." Cosette kissed her father lightly on the cheek before leaving.

Cosette walked with a purpose to Eponine's father's inn. When she arrived, Eponine was standing nervously by the door.

"Oh, Cosette, thank God you're here," Eponine took Cosette by the wrist and pulled her along with her upstairs while she was talking. "It's Gav. He's pale and got a fever and rather delirious, and I just don't know what's wrong!" Eponine cried exasperatedly. She sat down on Gavroche's bed and ran her hand through her hair, sighing.

Cosette sat down next to Eponine and rubbed her back comfortingly. "Don't worry. We'll get this worked out," she said, and then Gavroche himself entered.

Cosette immediately knew what was wrong; she had seen this once before when she was volunteering at a nursery and someone had left a plate of cookies out.

"Eponine, Gavroche is on a sugar rush." Cosette said. Eponine raised her eyebrow questioningly. "A sugar rush is when a child eats a lot of sugar at once," Cosette explained, and Eponine's eyes widened. Walking out of the room, they heard her rustling around in her own room.

She returned with a dangerous look in her eyes and said, "Gavroche Thenardier, did you take my secret candy stash?"

"Yeah but I'm super sorry Ponine I meant to ask but I was so hungry and I haven't had candy in so long and I just saw it on your bed and I ate it I'm sorry Ponine," Gavroche said hurriedly.

Eponine sighed in an 'I'll-punish-you-later' kind of way, then said, "Cosette is going to help you. I want you to listen to her and do what she says, okay?"

"Okay 'Ponine."

Cosette smiled and said, "'Ponine, could you get a cup of water?" Eponine nodded and left, and Cosette said, "Okay Gavroche, I want you to lie down and just try to rest now."

"Okay, 'Sette." Cosette smiled at his nickname for her.

Eponine came back with the water, which Gavroche drank. He then fell asleep surprisingly fast.

"So, now what do we do?" Eponine asked, looking at Gavroche's calmly sleeping form.

"Wait. And when he wakes up, we better be ready." Cosette leaves briefly before coming back with a bucket and a towel. Eponine sighs.

The two girls chat while they wait, and are interrupted by a groan. Cosette hurries over to help Gavroche up and pushes the bucket into his hands, and sure enough, all his sugary delight comes back up. Eponine hands him a glass of water, which he swishes around in his mouth and spits into the bucket.

"'Ponine, my tummy hurts," Gavroche said, his face scrunched up in pain.

Even so, Eponine laughs and kisses Gavroche lightly on the head. "Glad you're back, 'Gav." She then turns to Cosette and says, "Cosette I don't know what I would have done without you,"

Cosette smiles and says, "No problem. Ask me any time you need." The girls hug, and although they don't realize it, this hug will bring them far closer together.

END

So, I know I promised a Bahorel-migraine, but I couldn't help it ;) Please review, and thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Wow thirty reviews! That's soooo many….SOOO MANY! So, if you read the special note at the end of the chapter, all my wonderful reviewers will get a special reward. But here is the special chapter you requested! Bahorel+ migraine. Have fun and please review! Note: It might have a bit of a switchy POV.

CHAPTER 10!

"Are you kidding me?! Poland is not better than France!" Enjolras exclaimed, standing up to face Feuilly, who had been going on about a Poland documentary he had seen.

"Well, for one, Poland has a far more stable government than France…." The two men continued ranting about France versus Poland.

Bahorel closed his eyes and wondered why his head felt like it was about to molecularly combust. It had been throbbing all day, and he nearly was sick several times. But Bahorel had drunk many a-wine glasses in his day and learned to keep his stomach. But migraines were something different.

Finally, Bahorel didn't want to hear one more word about Poland. "_Feuilly, I swear if you say one more word about Poland I will throw you out a second story window." _He hissed with surprising power for one suffering from a migraine.

Feuilly frowned, looking hurt. But it turns to worry when he sees his roommate with his head down on the table. His short-cut ebony hair is damp with sweat. "Bahorel, are you alright?"

Bahorel shook his head, as much as he could with his head on the table.

"Migraine?"

Bahorel lifts his head and leans back in his chair and nods. Feuilly's hand ghosts over Bahorel's forehead, which creases upon Feuilly's barely tangible touch. This cues Feuilly on just how bad it is. "Bahorel, I'm taking you home."

Bahorel nods and shakily stands up. Feuilly takes one of his arms and drapes it over his own shoulders. Bahorel rests his head on Feuilly's shoulder.

The two are about to leave when Grantaire (drunk) stands up. The sight of Bahorel's muscled arm over Feuilly's skinny shoulders can hardly go by Grantaire without some sarcastic comment, as everyone should know.

"Aww, is someone in love?" Grantaire asked, drawing out the words 'someone' and 'love'.

Bahorel's breathing tightened, and that was the millisecond warning anyone got before Bahorel hit them. His hand cracking across Grantaire's face stopped the whole café. Everyone looks up, even Enjolras. Many of them have looks of shock on their faces.

Grantaire looks surprised for a moment, his hand on the cheek Bahorel hit, but he quickly said, "Well, I just sobered up for you maniacs. I hope you're happy," with his usual sarcastic smirk back in place.

Bahorel smiled, glad Grantaire hadn't taken it personally but made it into a joke. "I appreciate the gesture, R." Grantaire smiled.

"C'mon, let's go home." Feuilly coaxed. The two made it down the stairs and out the door of the Café Musain, and then into Bahorel's car.

Bahorel slid behind the wheel, but Feuilly automatically said, "Nope. Get in the passenger seat." Bahorel felt so crappy he just complied and moved into the next seat. The pain in his head spiked and he groaned quietly, rather unintentionally.

"Are you sure this isn't a hangover?" Feuilly asked quietly, and Bahorel glared at him.

"Dammit Feuilly, I'm sure." He said, and Feuilly fixed his eyes on the road. They drove in an awkward silence. Once they arrived, Bahorel stumbled into the flat that they shared, and collapsed onto the couch. Feuilly sighed and sat down in a chair across from him.

Staring at his friend, he began to let his mind drift. He eventually came to rest on the memory of how they met.

_It had been a rough night for Feuilly, who was 15 at the time and had already begun to work as a fan-maker. His hands were sore and cracked, so he went to a local bar for a drink to unwind. There, some local bourgeois' had noticed Feuilly's hands and begun to taunt him about his poorness. _

_ Feuilly had heard these insults all his life, and had learned to shrug them off without any notice. And he was doing just so, wondering why so many people acted this immature. One bold bourgeois noticed how his insults were earning no response, and grabbed Feuilly's shoulder. The other boys took this cue and began to hit Feuilly. _

_ Feuilly was skinny and weak, and couldn't do anything to defend himself but cover his head, to no effect. His nose was bleeding profusely, and it was then someone came to defend him. _

_ It was Bahorel. Just a year older than Feuilly but far taller and muscled, he already looked like a man. His glare pierced the boys just as much as his shout of, "Lay off!" _

_ The boys weren't happy someone was trying to interrupt them. Turning around to face the much larger boy, Feuilly could see the lead bourgeois's confidence waver in Bahorel's superior presence. "Get away from him." Bahorel said, and then the leader took a swing at him. _

_ This was a mistake. Bahorel easily dodged the punch and slammed his fist into the attacker's stomach. That one blow made the rest of them scatter. Kneeling down at Feuilly's level, he asked gently, "Are you okay?" _

Feuilly smiled sleepily as he watched his resting friend. He could already tell the migraine was gone; Bahorel's face was much more relaxed.

In the morning, Feuilly was right. Bahorel had recovered completely, and he nervously apologized for being rude to Feuilly earlier. Feuilly just laughed.

END

Wow! Lots of FeuillyBahorel in this chapter, and I feel like this (no slash!) relationship is like a brotherhood. I don't know their characters very well, so this might not be accurate. I hope you enjoyed your requested chapter!

SO, HERE IS THE REWARD I TALKED ABOUT EARLIER! For all my wonderful thirty reviews, I have a gift. The first THREE people to submit a review on this chapter will get a custom chapter! Specially for them, whatever characters, NON LIFE THREATNING OR IMPAIRING diseases or illnesses, slash or no slash, pairings, settings, special lines they want, totally custom! The one thing I won't do is special OCs, because that's a bit hard ;) So just submit your custom format along with your review. If you don't get chosen, don't despair! I'll have things like this every so often.

By the way, my Mulan performances are coming up this Friday and weekend (for people in my time zone ;) ), so it's likely I won't update over the weekend. Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: You lucky ducks! You get another update. This chapter is for LadyInRed, I hope you like it! Thanks for reading and please review! And there is now only one open slot for custom chapters.

This is a little mix of a modern AU and canon-era.

**Chapter 11~3****rd**** person POV **

Combeferre sighed as he lay down on the couch of his and Enjolras's shared flat and sighed. It had been an exhausting day for him at the hospital, checking file after file, taking patient calls, and such. He was thoroughly spent.

Just as Combeferre as about to doze off, he heard the front door click softly and groggily sat up to see Enjolras walk in, papers in his hand. "Hey, 'Ferre." He said, his lips brushing Combeferre's forehead, a little greeting they did on their own. No one else knew how deep their bond went.

"Hello. How'd the meeting go?" Combeferre murmured.

"Good. But now I've got to put the finishing touches on my Political Science essay." Enjolras went to his bedroom.

Combeferre closed his eyes, when Enjolras's words struck him with panic to the core. _Damn, damn, damn, _Combeferre thought over and over as he sprinted into his own room, tripping over his feet twice as he did so. He had an essay due tomorrow, and he hadn't even started it.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Combeferre glanced up at the clock on his bedroom wall. 2:11 am, it read. He stared at his essay paper in front of him, feeling a headache creeping up on him. He was almost done with his essay, almost done…

Finally, twenty minutes later, Combeferre slid the paper into his book bag with assurance that it was well done. He slid between the sheets of his bed and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

"'Ferre, Combeferre are you awake?" Enjolras's voice floated through Combeferre's consciousness, and he groggily sat up. "Are you sick, 'Ferre?" Enjolras said, peering at Combeferre's oddly pale face with worry.

"What? No, I'm fine. What's wrong?" Combeferre asked. Enjolras pointed to the clock on the wall.

"Combeferre, it's almost 8:00. You're going to be late." Enjolras was standing next to Combeferre's bed. When he realized his friend wasn't up when he normally was, Enjolras just wrote it off as sleeping in a bit, which Combeferre did sometimes. But never this late, he was normally up and ready to go by 7:45 at the latest. Enjolras didn't have any morning classes today, but Combeferre had his 8:15 Medical Training class.

"Oh-" Combeferre let out a long string of obscenities as he nearly fell out of bed in his haste to get ready. Enjolras shot him an odd look and gave him some privacy.

Changing quickly while simultaneously trying to comb his messy hair, Combeferre wondered why he chose this of all days to be late. His medical training professor was incredibly harsh and gave a detention for virtually anything.

Combeferre brushed his teeth quickly and grabbed his book bag. Sprinting to his first class, he made it in exactly one second after his professor began.

"I'm sorry I'm late-" He began, but his professor cut him off.

"Being late is unacceptable in this class. Detention this afternoon, Combeferre. Perhaps then you will rethink how you plan to get to class on time." His teacher said in a cold voice.

Combeferre's heart sank. He was working the night shift at the hospital. Combeferre had planned on going home and resting before his shift, but now he had a detention. Sighing internally, Combeferre sat down.

After the rest of his classes had ended, Combeferre trudged to the detention room. His book bag was weighing him down with loads of work to be done. Taking a seat in the corner of the room, Combeferre tried to concentrate on his work before him.

Which was easier said than done.

The detention room quickly filled with other students, who were constantly whispering to each other. Combeferre tried to get as much work done as he could, but still had a bit left over when he left for his hospital shift.

If anything, work seemed more hectic than usual. Kids in the waiting room were sobbing or babbling, people's scrubs swishing against the floor, the rustling of papers seeming overly loud. Or perhaps it was Combeferre's pounding headache that had joined him earlier.

By the end of his shift, Combeferre was barely able to walk home. He felt nauseous and light-headed. Stumbling into his flat, he crumpled onto his bed.

Both revolutionaries had the next day off of all classes, by some wonderful miracle of the schedule-makers. Combeferre woke up and was dismayed to realize he still had his headache.

He stood up to get ready, when he realized how shaky and dizzy he was. And it seemed worse than just the slightly-wobbly kind. He nearly fell over twice as he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he was ready, he checked his calendar that he kept on his wall and was delighted to see that he had the day off at the hospital. Good, maybe he and Enjolras could do something together.

Still, his idea of doing anything began to fade as his nausea got worse. He sat down on the couch and listened to Enjolras make breakfast in the kitchen.

"Morning, 'Ferre." Enjolras carried out two plates of eggs and bacon, setting one down in front of Combeferre and kissing him lightly on the forehead. Combeferre smiled weakly in return.

Enjolras dug into his breakfast, while Combeferre barely touched his. The food looked delicious- it wasn't often Enjolras cooked, since canned soup and eggs were about all he could make- but he wasn't sure his stomach would tolerate it.

Enjolras looked up and said, "Are you okay, Combeferre?" Combeferre nodded and replied with some generic excuse like, 'I'm just tired' or something. Enjolras was clearly not convinced.

"'Ferre, I can tell something's not right. What's wrong?" He asked, his gaze turning slightly steely as he mentally pressured an answer out of Combeferre.

Combeferre sighed and said in what he hoped was an off-hand voice, "I just had a long night at the hospital, that's all." Enjolras frowned, but it was an acceptable answer. He took his empty plate and Combeferre's full one to the kitchen and came back.

"Combeferre? 'Ferre, are you alright?" Enjolras said.

"What?" Combeferre snapped into reality again. Enjolras was sitting across from him, his face laced with worry.

"I was asking what you planned on doing today. 'Ferre I think you're sick," Enjolras said, his hand reaching out to feel Combeferre's forehead.

Combeferre lightly batted his hand away and said, "I'm fine. I just spaced out for a moment. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get a book." With that Combeferre got up and went to his room, where he had a small bookshelf.

Enjolras got his proof when Combeferre, halfway down the hall, stumbled and fell down. Rushing over to help him up, Enjolras said, "Okay, your either sick or you've just really overworked yourself, and trust me I've done that before." He walked Combeferre back to the couch and forced him to sit.

Combeferre sighed and rolled his eyes, but complied with the blonde. He sat down and Enjolras began to ask him how late he had stayed up the past few days. "Well, I had to stay up until about 2:30ish to finish one of my essays, and last night I had the night shift at the hospital." Combeferre supplied.

Enjolras sighed and said, "You don't do anything in halves, do you?"

"Oh, come on. I'm not nearly as bad as you are," Combeferre rolled his eyes.

"Hey!"

Combeferre smiled gently and reclined back onto the couch. Maybe he would let Enjolras take care of him. It felt nice to not be the mother-henner for once.

"Well, I can assure you that for the rest of today and whenever you have spare time this week it will be on this couch or in your bed." Enjolras commanded, then bit his lip and added, "'Ferre, you get me really worried when you do things like this. Just, please try to rest and get better."

Combeferre was a bit surprised that Enjolras was letting him see this softer, more vulnerable side of him. Normally, Enjolras never let any of his feelings shine through, and the word 'weakness' was non-existent in his dictionary of emotions. Still, Combeferre understood where he was coming from. They had known each other since Enjolras was five and Combeferre was his babysitter at ten years old. Luck would have it the two met up again throughout the years and ended up attending the same school. It must be scary to see someone who has always been there for you falter. Nodding, Combeferre said gently but seriously, "Okay. I will, I promise."

Enjolras seemed to sense all of this in his short but reassuring answer and smiled thankfully. "You rest, while I make us some food."

Personally, the thought of food sounded disgusting to Combeferre but he didn't argue. Closing his eyes, he let his need for sleep wash over his and lull him asleep.

Combeferre knew once he woke up, he had been asleep for a while; the lighting had drastically changed. Sitting up a little sorely from falling asleep in a rather upright position, Combeferre saw the clock read 7:34 pm. He stood up and stretched, feeling remarkably better but immensely hungry.

He wandered into the kitchen, where Enjolras was sitting down with his back to Combeferre, pouring over a large volume. Combeferre silently walked up behind him and placed a hand on his should. "What are you reading?"

Enjolras jumped about a foot in the air; he turned with a start and relaxed when he saw Combeferre's familiar gentle grin.

"French History 1600-1650," Enjolras said, and Combeferre couldn't help but laugh.

"Again?" he asked. He sat down across from Enjolras, who proceeded to stand up and grab something from the oven. It was soup.

"I put it in the oven to keep it warm. And, since you are my favorite person- don't tell Courfeyrac I said that- it's homemade." Enjolras said, and you could tell he was rather proud of himself.

Combeferre took a spoonful, and was rather surprised to find it was delicious. It was warm and filling with tender chunks of beef and bits of caramelized onion. Enjolras watched him with triumph on his face.

"Thank you for taking care of me," Combeferre said between spoonfuls- it was amazing.

Enjolras smiled and said, "Don't be an idiot. It was nothing. Thank you for getting better." And with that, Enjolras went over and hugged Combeferre.

When they broke away, Combeferre said, "Well, I can't say I didn't have it coming for me, but I promise I will try to not overwork myself in the future."

"I'll hold you to it," Enjolras said with mock seriousness that was nearly comical. Both boys dissolved into laughter.

END

Wow! Big update space. There is now only one custom chapter spot open! Rachel, I would be more than happy to do something with a minor surgery- I got some firsthand experience when I had to have four teeth removed (consciously) last month- but I thought you should know, appendicitis is a very major surgery. Appendicitis itself is a disease that inflames the appendix, a rather useless organ in your stomach. When it becomes inflamed, it ruptures within a matter of hours. Then it kills the person. When the appendix is removed, it would be classified as an 'emergency surgery', because if the diseased organ is not removed quickly enough it will rupture, which practically means it will explode inside of you. I know because I nearly had appendicitis once.


	12. Chapter 1213?

A/N: Hello! So, I was telling myself I was only going to work on the custom chapters for now, but then the Idea Fairy visited and gave me the fluffiest idea ever. I have been craving more fluff than blood draws recently, so I can call this chapter: Le UBER-FLUFF CHAPTER! Yay, so anyway, this chapter has one of my favorite characters, COURFEYRAC! Because who doesn't love a sick, adorable Courfeyrac!? As usual, all my characters are portrayed by their 2012 movie counterparts. So have fun with this one!

This will be a Modern AU, with technology and stuff like that.

Also- there's probably going to be a switchy POV- apologies ahead of time, I don't proofread this, I only depend on spellcheck.

Chapter 13

Courfeyrac rolled over for the tenth time in his bed. He could check his alarm clock again, but he knows it will be the same time he checked five minutes ago- somewhere in the early morning. After Courfeyrac had walked home from one of his late classes in the rain and immediately took a hot shower, his body couldn't seem to decide whether it wanted to be shaking with fever or with cold. His teeth were chattering at the same time his forehead was drenched in sweat, and he couldn't sleep. _Maybe I should have listened to Joly's rants about walking in the rain, _Courfeyrac thought before finally finding sleep.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxx-

Enjolras sat up and stretched. It was 6am on a Saturday morning, and no doubt his house mate Courfeyrac was sleeping still. Enjolras grumbled internally about how his friends could simply not appreciate an early rise.

Enjolras was wandering about the house (Courfeyrac claimed typing a speech or otherwise this early was too loud and woke everyone- meaning Courfeyrac- up), and thinking about getting Courf up to make breakfast, since Enjolras could burn water without trying. He walked into Courfeyrac's room and gently shook his shoulder.

Courfeyrac opened one of his eyes, and closed it again when he saw Enjolras. "What?" he muttered, but he was mainly drowned out by his face buried in his pillow.

"Come on, you're going to suffocate yourself. Get up, we need breakfast," Enjolras said, and Courfeyrac sat up. Enjolras took note of how pale he looked but wrote that off to the bright morning sunlight.

"Some of us need are not vampires and thus need sleep," Courfeyrac said in a stuffy voice.

"Are you alright?" Enjolras asked.

"No, I am not fine. You have just woke me up at- what, 6 am? - on a Saturday morning to make you breakfast." Courfeyrac said, and broke off coughing. Enjolras frowned and sighed at the same time.

"You sound ill, is what I meant." Enjolras sat down next to Courfeyrac and placed his hand on Courfeyrac's forehead, and almost immediately ripped it away. "You're burning up, Courf."

"Well, I did walk home in the rain yesterday, so I can assume I'm sick." Courfeyrac said, closing his eyes once more and sliding under the covers.

Enjolras said, "I'm going to get some medicine for you, then I want you to rest." Courfeyrac grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip and scooted over.

"No, stay." Courfeyrac murmured, and Enjolras sighed and tried to pry Courfeyrac's iron grip off, to no effect. "Please?" Enjolras sighed and slid in the bed with him.

"I'm just letting you know, I've got a class in half an hour." Enjolras said, and Courfeyrac sighed an irritated sigh that sounded like the sound rolling eyes would make if rolling eyes were audible.

About twenty minutes later, Enjolras sat up. "I've got to go now, 'Fey. I'll send Jehan over, okay?" Enjolras slid out of bed despite Courfeyrac's mumbled protests. He sat up, and glanced miserably at Enjolras, who knew that Courfeyrac couldn't stand to be alone, much less when he was sick. "Bye, Courfeyrac." And he left.

Courfeyrac flopped back onto his bed with a huff. Only Enjolras would have classes on a Saturday morning. Courfeyrac tried to fall asleep but was interrupted too often by coughing or sneezing fits. Finally, he got sick of sitting still and wandered to the couch to watch something horrible.

Courfeyrac draped a blanket over himself and was about to flip the television on when he heard a knock on the door, and then, without waiting for a response, Jehan entered the room.

"Hey, Courf, how're you doing?" Jehan asked, while coming in and sitting down next to Courfeyrac on the couch.

"Well, I walked home in the rain last night and now I'm diseased beyond human comprehension, so I'd say just peachy." Courfeyrac replied sarcastically, then said, "Sorry, but I'm just not doing great." Jehan nodded understandingly.

"Want me to distract you?" He asked, and Courfeyrac nodded. Jehan went into an in-depth description of his upcoming poetry slam, and how he couldn't decide between two he wanted to present. After reciting both to Courfeyrac, he asked, "Which do you think?"

Courfeyrac looked like he was about to answer, but then his face scrunched up and he closed his eyes, like he had to sneeze but was holding it in. After a moment, his face relaxed and he opened his mouth to answer again, but hurriedly turned away and sneezed into his arm about ten times in a row.

Jehan was cracking up, and threw a tissue box at Courfeyrac's head. "What was that?" he gasped.

Courfeyrac blew his nose and said, "Whenever I sneeze, it's always like ten times in a row. I blame my mother- I must've got it from her, she does it too." Jehan laughed again.

"Well, I think you have a cute sneeze." Jehan said, and only then realized how odd it sounded.

Courfeyrac just laughed and said, "I'm sure I've gotten weirder compliments." He flipped on the television and they spent an hour watching Dance Moms.

"How can that lady be so mean to those children?" Jehan said for the third time, and Courfeyrac responded by throwing the remote at his head. "No!" Jehan shrieked, ducking. "It's infected!"

Courfeyrac tried to glare at him, but it was ruined by the fact he had another sneezing fit.

"Twelve!" Jehan was on the floor, clutching his stomach with laughter. "How does someone sneeze twelve times in a row?" Courfeyrac's face flushed. He muttered something about crappy genetics and turned his attention back to the television.

Jehan got control over himself and sat back on the couch at the opposite end of Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac was flipping through the guide when some nature documentary caught Jehan's eye, and even Courfeyrac melted at Jehan's adorable pout. Jehan was absolutely riveted on the documentary, the only interruption being Courfeyrac's sneezing and coughing.

Jehan shot Courfeyrac a sideways glance as he started sneezing once again. "Could you quiet your diseased self? I am attempting to learn," he said.

"You're one to talk! If I hear about the pollination process of daises one more time, my ears will start bleeding." Courfeyrac shot back and blew his nose again.

"You should take some medicine, because you sound horrible." Jehan said, and Courfeyrac retaliated by throwing the used tissue at him. "EW!" Jehan screamed and flew off the couch. Now it was Courfeyrac's turn to laugh.

Jehan glared at Courfeyrac's laughing form with as much dignity as he could muster, and said, "I'm getting you some medicine." He then ransacked the kitchen before realizing the cold medicine was right on the coffee table. Huffing with exasperation, he shoved the medicine at Courfeyrac and said, "Take it, because I will not tolerate any of your used tissues or otherwise near me."

Courfeyrac smirked and complied, taking the medicine before descending into coughing. Jehan's expression went from exasperated to worry in seconds. "You sound like you're about to cough a lung up."

"Well, it certainly feels that way." Courfeyrac said, all his normal Courfeyrac-bravado gone and replaced with fatigue. He felt like dirt; his throat was sore, his head was pounding, his nose was congested and sore from being in constant contact with tissue. All in all, Courfeyrac was not a happy camper.

Jehan felt his heart turn with sympathy, and he sat down next to Courfeyrac. "Would it be better if we cuddled?" he asked, and Courfeyrac smiled.

"Of course it would be, you dip." He pulled Jehan down next to him, and the two sat in contentment next to each other. Jehan gently kissed his friend on the cheek, then on the neck and forehead over and over. Courfeyrac laughed as Jehan pulled him closer into a hug and started kissing his hair and forehead.

"Stop it," Courfeyrac giggled, "I'm gonna sneeze." Jehan rolled his eyes and released Courfeyrac, who turned away and started sneezing again.

"You have a really cute sneeze," Jehan said again, kissing the back of Courfeyrac's head. Courfeyrac giggled, and kissed him back. The two cuddled up, and remained there until Enjolras walked in on them.

END  
Wow I seriously don't know what happened with this. Sorry if this was a really dumb chapter XD It's Halloween, I've had a ton of candy, and I can't think straight.


	13. Author's Note

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, today is November First! YAY! But, do you know what this means? I am participating in NaNoWriMo this month (*coughs* not like I'm doing a Les Mis fan fiction or anything *coughs* I must have Enjolrasitis)! So all my stories are on temporary hiatus until December.

I WOULD LIKE TO THANK ALL MY WONDERFUL REVIEWERS! (*coughs* Phoenixflames12! *coughs* CURSE THIS ENJOLRASITIS!) Your reviews make me smile and laugh and make me so glad I am a writer on here.

Thanks ;)


	14. Chapter 14-or would this be 12?

Chapter 12

**A/N: So, Rachel, I just re-read your idea and there are soooooooo many ideas going through my head right now, and I simply cannot wait until this is published! I'm sure you're going to laugh, and I will too. Have fun with this one, I had a nasty first-hand experience with it. **

Chapter 12

Enjolras frowned a little as he took a bite of the hard-crusted bread that he and Combeferre were snacking on as they worked on speeches. They were on break currently and Enjolras took their schoolwork relief as the chance to plan new revolutionary-ness. Combeferre took notice of his frown and said, "Is something wrong?"

Enjolras shook his head and said, "Just a toothache."

Combeferre frowned. "Let me look at it, because you know how toothaches seem very minor but they could cause very big problems…"

Enjolras shook his head and said, "I'm perfectly fine." He then stood up and left the room, probably to go write a speech or something.

Combeferre sighed; why was Enjolras so stubborn about this? Toothaches could be very problematic if left unchecked. _I guess I'm just going to have to wait for him to realize he has to go to a doctor, _Combeferre thought.

A few weeks passed, and Enjolras's toothache got worse. He could barely eat anything without wincing, and everyone was trying to convince him to see a doctor; naturally, Enjolras refused. The breaking point, however, was when Combeferre woke up at 10 o'clock at night when he heard groaning in the bathroom.

Combeferre walked to the bathroom and squinted in the bright light. He saw Enjolras leaning over the sink, spitting out blood. "Enjolras?" Combeferre asked.

Enjolras turned around to face Combeferre. He looked awful; his face was twisted with pain, and a portion of his lower lip/mouth was swollen and red. There was dried blood in the corner of his mouth and fresh blood dripping down his chin.

"Oh, Enjolras…" Combeferre breathed, taking in his younger friend's injured appearance. He grabbed a washcloth and dampened it with water from the faucet. He started to wipe the blood of Enjolras's mouth, but Enjolras backed away with the second it came in contact with his face.

"No, please, 'Ferre. It hurts," Enjolras said in a muffled whisper. His eyes were filled with pain, and Combeferre felt guilty.

"I'm sorry it hurts, but you should've let me look at it. Now I have to." Combeferre said gently but firmly, once again beginning to dab at Enjolras's mouth with the washcloth. Enjolras's eyes fill with tears of pain that slowly drip down his face. It takes time to clear the blood away using the gentle touch Combeferre is, but finally Enjolras's face is blood free. Combeferre inspects his mouth, and sees one tooth on the lower jaw on the left side is bleeding.

Enjolras whimpered slightly, and Combeferre hugged him. Enjolras whispered, "It hurts, 'Ferre. It hurts,"

Combeferre felt his heart bleed at those words; Enjolras, the golden leader so rarely gave into pain and here he was openly crying in Combeferre's arms. "I'm taking you to a doctor, Enjolras. It's gonna be okay."

Enjolras nodded, and the fact that he was allowing Combeferre to take him to the doctor worried him even more. Enjolras normally denied help of any sort; so it was very unnerving to have him agree without objection.

Taking Enjolras's arm, Combeferre lead him out the door of their flat and out to Combeferre's car; there, they drove to the hospital in silence. In the parking lot, Enjolras got lots of concerned looks from passerby; but inside the emergency room waiting room, he didn't get a second glance next to children crying with swollen limbs, or a person gasping with pain from appendicitis. It was a surprisingly short wait; Combeferre and Enjolras were in the doctor's room within ten minutes.

The doctor said hello, and then got right to work, cleaning up and inspecting Enjolras's mouth. Enjolras clenched his fists until his knuckles were white in pain. Finally, the doctor put down his tools and took off his face mask.

Addressing Combeferre, he said, "Well, there is a mild tooth infection, nothing that a couple days on antibiotics could clear up. The problem is it's located so deeply in the root that the white blood cells and antibiotics would have minimal effects without more surface area to work on." He then turned to Enjolras and said, "I'm sorry, but for that reason you're going to have to have your tooth removed."

TBC!


End file.
